. . .
They drew up at a spreading, white-stone building, set back from the
snowy street. Mrs. Weatherby greeted her warmly and her various younger
cousins were produced from the corners where they skulked politely.
Isabelle met them tactfully. At her best she allied all with whom she
came in contact--except older girls and some women. All the impressions
she made were conscious. The half-dozen girls she renewed acquaintance
with that morning were all rather impressed and as much by her direct
personality as by her reputation. Amory Blaine was an open subject.
Evidently a bit light of love, neither popular nor unpopular--every
girl there seemed to have had an affair with him at some time or other,
but no one volunteered any really useful information. He was going to
fall for her. . . . Sally had published that information to her young
set and they were retailing it back to Sally as fast as they set eyes
on Isabelle. Isabelle resolved secretly that she would, if necessary,
_force_ herself to like him--she owed it to Sally. Suppose she were
terribly disappointed. Sally had painted him in such glowing colors--
he was good-looking, "sort of distinguished, when he wants to be,"
had a line, and was properly inconstant.
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